Jack

I didn't feel any guilt, getting off the bus and walking through the crowded streets of an unfamiliar town. Unlike my Miami stunt, I had enough money and a credit card. It had taken almost four days to reach this place, so I was a fair way from home. My beer supply had run out on the second day and my bus driver had refused to let me buy another six pack. He did, however, give me painkillers to dull my raging hangover. I wasn't keen on swallowing even a sip if alcohol any time soon.

My first order of business was to open a new bank account; my parents kept a close eye on all my purchases and I would be unable to stay undercover for long if I rented a small flat using the card I had now.

I found a bank, the sign outside telling me I was in Denver. I waited for an hour to set up a new account, before transferring everything across. Nobody looked at me differently here; I was just another guy. As far as they knew, I was straight. Nobody could insult me here. Nobody could make me feel small because of my sexuality. I was free.

I only wished I had grabbed Alex when I ran.

I had listened to his voice messages over and over, until my battery finally died. Then I had shoved my phone in the bottom of my bag. It was only a reminder of people I couldn't contact.

I walked around for a few more hours and found a place I could rent. I called the estate agents at four and I was sitting - albeit uncomfortably - on my couch.

The walls were peeling and the was some type of mildew on the ceiling, but I didn't care. There was an open fire, and it was currently lit. The whole place, overall, was quite clean, with only a few inches of dust due to the emptiness. The real estate agent had been quite eager to get rid of it, and was only charging me one hundred dollars a week. It was a bargain, and on the down low. My parents would be scouring the priciest hotels for me, if they still cared.

I lay down on the couch, brushing dust off the floor into my palm and hurling it into the slowly dying flames. I didn't want to die; just escape for a while. Maybe even for the rest of my life. I nodded off as the flames slowly dropped to nothing, their absence making me shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me.I woke up the next day and locked up, walking out into the unfamiliar city. It was quite busy, and almost every third store I passed wanted employees. It was weird to see those signs; in Baltimore it was difficult to get a job and I had no clue how unemployment rates would be so high here. I walked into a Walmart and was told that I had a job if I wanted it the second after the words,

'I was wondering if you were interested in hiring?' Left my lips. The woman behind the counter had then made me fill out some paperwork and told me to come back tomorrow with a resume.Four months have passed since I left Baltimore. I'm sending Alex checks in the mail to make sure he's making it by alright. My small flat feels more homey now, and I've gotten someone in about the mildew. The estate agent is surprised I've stayed here this long to say the least. There's at least a hundred sheets of paper stack neatly on the kitchen counter, each one starting with,

Dear Alex, it's Jack.

On the paper, are just short sentences. They describe my day, what I ate for dinner, how that cute guy I served had the exact same shade eyes as him and a nice behind, but not as nice as Alex's simply because it wasn't his. It's basically my inner monologue.I can't send him any of them, just like I've never given him a return address on the envelops containing the checks. My phone sits on top of the messily written letters, still dead as a door nail. I debated going to an Apple store and buying a charger, but that would tempt me to call Alex. There's only so many times that I can listen to my phone go off with his customized ringtone blaring through the apartment, or that I can listen to him leave a voicemail.

Maybe he hasn't left a voicemail. Maybe he's forgotten about me, and has moved on and found another cute, scruffy haired guy that would stand at his performances and watch him sing time and time again. I stood up and went to my suitcase, digging deep and finally finding what I was looking for - my only solid reminder of Alex. It was his cup that he used to collect his "two dollars and a bent paper clip" as he once described it to me. It was old and chipped, but it had the logo of his favourite football team emblazoned on the side and in pink sharpie his name written across it, in a much neater script than mine.

I walked into my bedroom and crept under the icy covers, clutching the cup. I pulled the duvet closer around me and nodded off, my toes freezing. I had no clue what I was going to do with my life.
Title cred: Sarah Smiles - Panic! At the Disco

c0l0urfultears
Okay, I know I said comments, but how about opinons? What's good, what's bad?

Notes

Title cred: Sarah Smiles - Panic! At the Disco

c0l0urfultears